


To Everyone In the World, Because the Afterlife is Dull

by sariagray



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariagray/pseuds/sariagray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who says dead men tell no tales? At least, they write letters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Everyone In the World, Because the Afterlife is Dull

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by analineblue.

To Everyone In the World,

 

The first thing you need to know about me is that I’m dead. It is, perhaps, the most important thing. Personality, milestones, job descriptions – none of these things really matter once you’re dead, but you’re all probably smart enough to have figured that out on your own.

Not that one has to be particularly intelligent to realize that death is the great equalizer, but I’m trying not to be insulting.

Some people will tell you that it’s all darkness, that death is like a black hole. And for some, that’s true. But death, the hereafter, is just as varied as regular life. It’s not pearly gates of Heaven, fire and brimstone of Hell, and a bunch of babies floating around in Purgatory, either. No one stands around with a clipboard to tick off your sins and measure your worth as a human (though if they offered me the job, I’d take it; I miss clipboards and checking things off lists).

It’s basically _Living: The Sequel_. They’ve got a naively ambitious director, the soundtrack is just a hyped up variation of Clint Mansell’s score to _Requiem for a Dream_ , and it isn’t anywhere near as good as the original, but you’ll take it because it really is better than nothing. Besides, all your friends have seen it and it doesn’t do you any good to resist. There are no hipsters in the afterlife, because that _would_ be Hell. As I’ve already pointed out, Hell doesn’t exist.

Well, Owen _is_ here, so maybe I should amend that slightly. He’s still…Owen.

But that means nothing to you, of course. You don’t know who I am. Or, really, who I was before I died. I was a man, simple enough, neither a hero nor a coward. I like to think that people will look back and say that I was a good man, but I fucked up often enough to know better than to get my hopes up. I’ve loved a couple of times, selfishly and selflessly, and I’ve learned some things along the way. Like how all of those damn ideals about letting things go are frustratingly true. They come back even if you wish they wouldn’t.

I fought aliens, too, but that’s neither here nor there.

What really matters, when you strip away all of the day-to-day, is that I have an eternity here. After a long time of contemplating the thought of eternity, I gave up. I never thought I’d get nostalgic for disaster, but here I am.

You need to understand that…well, that I’m dead and I’ve loved, and both are really painful experiences. But neither of them are as painful as the lack of either. I think I understand him better now. Jack, that is. You may not know who the fuck I’m talking about, but you will soon. Everyone knows Jack, eventually. Contrary to popular belief, he’s human. He deserves love and the right to die like the rest of us. I can’t give him the latter, but I can at least refuse to begrudge him the former.

You probably don’t understand. It’s okay; not many do. I’ll give you the briefest summary of my life: the first person I really loved died a horrible death and I couldn’t save her. The second person I loved will live forever and I couldn’t save him, either.

But that’s the point, isn’t it? Jack has an eternity, and so do I, and we’re on separate paths, letting time flow in opposite directions. It’s poetic and tragic and bloody stupid, if you ask me, to think that love ends at the moment we parted. Because, for both of us, that’s a damn long time to be alone and miserable. Do I wish it had ended differently? Of course I do. But it didn’t. And I love him enough, fool that I am, to hope that he finds happiness, someone to ground him, peace. And death, too, though I mean that kindly.

I love him enough, and you know what? I bet you will, too. That’s his one defense against the world and I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I once helped to save the world and now I’m dead. And I’m perfectly fine with my story ending there.

 

Sincerely,  



End file.
